


A Safe Place to Close my Eyes (or Trucker Grantaire)

by hidinginmybones



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Heartbreak, Homophobia, Lectures, M/M, Philosophy, Running away from home, Sharing a Bed, les amis on the road, road trip fic, trucker!Grantaire, vegetarians, wet kitty enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidinginmybones/pseuds/hidinginmybones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Enjolras runs away from home and hitch hikes and Grantaire is the trucker that picks him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hitching

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god I have not abandoned my other fic, it's just arguing with me a lot. So I took a break and this is what happened. Rating for later chapters!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys.

Enjolras finds himself on the edge of town, standing beside the highway with his arm jutted out from his body. His thumb is quite visible, or it would be if it weren’t pouring rain and blacker than any normal night. He just hopes that the headlights reflect off of his body before he finds himself in the ditch, with all of his bones broken and his skin bloodied. He’s not sure that idea is unwelcome anymore, not after tonight, but he is sure that his friends would kill him if he let himself get hurt like that, at least, Combeferre and Courfeyrac would. Well, he hopes Courfeyrac would. He’s not entirely sure where the two of them stand anymore. Combeferre would kill him if he knew he was even out here. He thinks that Courfeyrac would commend him for being such a bad ass, running away from his parents in the middle of the night because he can no longer stand their conservative world views. At least, he can’t anymore, not now that it actually matters. 

He’d always known that he didn’t agree with them very much when it had come to politics but with something so important, so close to home for him like homosexuality… He can’t live under the same roof as two people who think that he’s disgusting just for being attracted to his own gender. He can’t be near his parents anymore since they think he’s a pervert, since they don’t believe he should ever get married- not that he’s planning on doing so anytime soon, if ever. He’d only been planning on going on a date with Courfeyrac, after all. He’s drenched through his clothes already, shivering with the cold but he’s determined. He’s not going to give up; he can’t go home, not now, not ever. He needs to get as far from home as he possibly can. He just hopes that Courf is willing to wait for him to come back.

Enjolras is out there for barely ten minutes before there’s someone pulling over. This surprises him. He’s never hitch hiked before but he’d always thought it would be a little harder than this. He isn’t going to complain, however, because the thing that’s pulled over just ahead of him is a transport and a transport has the possibility of taking him very far away from home, and away from his parents. He rushes up to the truck recklessly, fully aware of the danger involved in his actions but not caring. Enjolras has never been concerned with himself, driven more by his various causes and beliefs and the same goes for this situation. If he can use his own situation as an example for more awareness, he’ll use it to his advantage, but nothing more. 

The door is open when Enjolras climbs up the steps and peers in. He blinks. He’d been expecting the typical trucker to be sitting inside, the old, fat, balding version of hillbilly that he’s come to stereotype truckers as over the course of his life. He should know better though, since he’s against stereotyping in general. The sight that meets his eyes is something completely different. The guy sitting in the driver’s seat is older than Enjolras but he’d never consider this man old. He has dark, curly hair and a friendly grin on his face. His arms are littered with mismatching tattoos, which is standard for truckers in Enjolras’ mind, but he’s not fat either. In fact, he looks quite fit, in all honesty. Enjolras knows his eyes are wide but he climbs into the cab anyway, settling on the cushioned seat. 

“So hey,” the guy says, “where are you headed?”

The question brings Enjolras out of his own head and he blinks at the driver. It takes him a second to realize what he’s been asked but when he does, he replies quite easily, “Anywhere. Wherever you’re headed, I just need to get out of here.” 

“You sound like my kind of passenger,” the guy replies, grinning easily. “Hop in, I’ll let you know where I’m going and you can decide how far you want to go from there, deal?” 

Enjolras nods and he climbs the rest of the way into the cab. He hefts his bag into the spot between them just to put that much extra distance between himself and this stranger. The guy is hot, yeah, Enjolras would have to have no eyes not to notice, but that doesn’t make him a nice guy, despite how kind his smile seems. Enjolras is sure that at some point, someone had thought that a serial killer was hot and then they ended up dead, or an accessory to murder. This trucker could be a serial killer, one that picks up innocent people off the side of the highway and then kills them in the goriest and bloodiest ways possible. He buckles himself into the passenger’s seat just as the guy pulls away from the curb, trying not to picture all the ways his body could turn up. He’d never be able to go to another protest again and Combeferre would find a way to kill him all over if that happened. Enjolras pushes those thoughts from his head. He can’t thin k that way right now. He needs to get away. 

“I’m Grantaire, by the way. I’d offer to shake your hand but I’m kind of driving,” he says. His eyes are on the road but they’re crinkling at the edges. Enjolras can tell that he has a nice smile even though he can only see half of his face. 

“Enjolras,” he replies. He pulls his knees up to his chest and looks out the window. All he wants is to stop talking and sulk for a while but it seems like Grantaire isn’t willing to comply. Enjolras doesn’t even usually allow himself even this much time for self-indulgence but seemingly, Grantaire doesn’t want to allow him any at all. It’s not fair.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeats, “that’s a fucking mouthful. Well, Enjolras, this is where we’re going.” He stops talking for another few seconds so that he can merge back into his original lane and straighten himself out. Enjolras hopes that he stays silent for a while longer. He doesn’t feel like talking at all but that seems to be all Grantaire wants to do. Fuck, he’d rather take the murderer trucker over the chatty one. Then at least he could have some silence. He does, however, feel the relief wash over him as he watches the miles between he and his family climb on the trip meter.

He just sits back against the seat and waits for Grantaire to continue since he doesn’t really have a choice except to listen. Grantaire is getting him away from here, after all. “I’m on a long run, right now. You see, I work for a company called Les Amis, we do most of our business in Quebec. My boss knows that I’m the only one that works here that doesn’t have anything waiting for me back home, so he sends me on the long ones. Tonight we’re heading up to Toronto to drop off a load. I’ll be picking up another load while we’re there, and then heading east to Ottawa to drop some of that off. From there we’ll be going into Quebec stopping in Montreal, drop off and pick up, then we’ll be heading over toward Quebec City… Is that enough for you?”

“To be honest, I’m planning on sticking with you as far as you’ll take me. I can’t go back there, not right now,” Enjolras responds honestly. He’s not going to say anything else about it; he’s surprised he’s said even this much. He’s not even usually this open with Combeferre. He sighs. He should let Combeferre know where he is but he knows that his dependable friend would insist he come and pick Enjolras up, would force him to stay at his place until this all blew over. It won’t blow over though, not unless Enjolras magically decides to become straight. At least he’d brought his laptop so he can still get some work done and they won’t stop long enough for anyone to track him down. Combeferre will just have to deal with him being gone for a while. 

“Well if you do happen to want to be let off, let me know, right?” comes Grantaire’s answer. Enjolras doesn’t respond so they fall into a silence, which is what he prefers anyway. He just curls up against his door and presses his head into the seat. He stares out into the darkness, trying to ignore the man beside him and suppress the urge to ask questions. He’s always been curious and he wants to know why Grantaire had chosen this sort of profession instead of something more meaningful. He wants to know who Grantaire is as a person, he wants to know if they can spend this entire drive talking about activism or having philosophical debates. He finds himself unbearably intrigued by this trucker that takes the long drives because he has nothing waiting for him at home but he doesn’t ask him anything. Instead, he remains stoic, staring out the window as nothing but darkness passes them. Before Enjolras even knows it, he’s fast asleep on the passenger’s side; it had been a long day and he’s ready to see it gone, possible murderous trucker or no.

***

It doesn’t take Grantaire long to realise that Enjolras doesn’t want to talk. That’s okay with him even though he really wants to know why this incredibly attractive _kid_ , since Enjolras can’t be any older than twenty, has run away from home. He can tell that the blond comes from rich stock too, judging by his clothes and his shoes. There seems like there should be no reason for him to leave home unless he’s just being sulky, which is entirely possible, but for some reason Grantaire thinks that there’s something more to it. They all talk eventually. Once time he’d travelled with a guy for two days before he’d broken down and told Grantaire his story but even he hadn’t been able to shut up once he’d finally started talking. He doubts that Enjolras will be any different.

Suddenly, his phone is ringing and Enjolras is being shaken out of sleep. Grantaire hadn’t even realised that he’d drifted off; he’d merely thought that the younger man had been being quiet. Apparently he’d been wrong. Enjolras startles and then takes his phone, pressing the answer button, shooting Grantaire a look and then pulling as far to his own side of the cab as he possibly can as he answers. 

Grantaire tries his best not to listen. Now, there’s something to be said about Grantaire trying his best and, as it turns out, Grantaire’s best isn’t actually very good. It’s not his fault that he leans a little toward Enjolras to better hear the words exchanged, masking it as swaying with a sharp turn he’d just taken. It’s really not his fault that he hears almost every word spoken, even though he’s leaning closer. It’s something about a Courfeyrac and a date with a Marius or some such but Grantaire is really trying not to listen. It’s of no fault of his that he knows why Enjolras suddenly looks so stricken. For one thing, he and Enjolras are in a very small space together and although the blond is speaking in very hushed tones, Grantaire would have to be half deaf not to hear the conversation. There’s also the fact that he _wants_ to know. He doesn’t quite understand it, because it’s never happened before, but for some reason, he feels oddly curious about Enjolras. The guy on the other line isn’t exactly quiet either.

Grantaire has had plenty of hitchers since he’d actually started driving the truck but none of them had caught his interest like Enjolras has. It could be because the blond is kind of adorable appearing slightly like a drowned cat with his curls still dripping into his eyes but it could also be that Enjolras seems like he really needs a friend right now, and for some unknown reason (it’s likely because underneath that pathetic wet kitty exterior, Enjolras is clearly insanely hot) Grantaire wants to be that friend. He can tell that Enjolras is leaving home for a reason, at least, a bigger reason than family needing to be visited nearby, or just a severe case of wanderlust. Enjolras is running away from something and Grantaire is dying to know what that something is. 

Over the past year, Grantaire has had a wide variety of different hitch hikers. He tends to pick up someone different at least once every trip. He’s driving anyway; he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t give someone else a ride, especially if they need to go where he’s already going. He’d had a few companions before the first one he really remembers, a brawler named Bahorel, trying to get back home from a party weekend in Toronto with a couple of his buddies. Grantaire had later found out that one of those buddies is his boyfriend, Jehan. Bahorel is in Toronto fairly often so whenever Grantaire sees him on the side of the road with his thumb sticking out, he picks him up and drives him as far as he wants to go.

Even though Grantaire knows about Bahorel, even though they’re kind of friends with each other now, Grantaire still hadn’t initially really cared a whole lot about him or his life. Bahorel had been pleasant enough, which was why Grantaire had picked him up a second time. It wasn’t until the third or the fourth though that they’d actually become friends, that Grantaire started to care about knowing things about him. He wants to know about Enjolras now and it’s only been a couple of hours. He’s actually straining his ears to hear the conversation happening on the other side of the line.

Enjolras hangs up before Grantaire can really learn anything interesting, unfortunately. It’s a very short conversation, something about a Combeferre and a Courfeyrac and a date with someone. He assumes that they’re Enjolras’ friends. He can’t hear the words from the person on the other side, despite the loudness of his voice, but he can hear the tone and it’s desperate, worried. Grantaire really wants to know what happened now and he almost breaks down and asks. He doesn’t though, because it really is none of his business. Even though everyone he’s ever given a ride to has broken down and told him all of their secrets, Enjolras has the right not to say anything for the entire trip and Grantaire knows it. He also knows that Enjolras’ silence will make this a very boring drive indeed. The problem is, Enjolras looks really upset now, curled in on himself against the door. Grantaire feels bad.

To break the silence, Grantaire glances over at the blond and says, “I need a coffee, are you hungry?”

He knows that Enjolras is lying when he shakes his head but he lets it go. He pulls over at the next truck stop, one he frequents often, and turns his vehicle off. “I’ll be back soon, are you sure you don’t want anything?” He leaves when Enjolras shakes his head again and goes inside the restaurant. 

Grantaire is getting his coffee when he figures he should pick something up for Enjolras as well. The kid looks half starved as it is, he doesn’t need to actually starve. He orders some extra food and picks up a couple bags of candy. He also gets a pack of cigarettes before he pays and heads back out to the truck. He doesn’t go in right away either, instead he lights one of his newly purchased cigarettes and takes a long drag. Part of him hopes that Enjoras leaves him soon, that he goes running back home because he can’t handle being away from everything that’s familiar to him but the other part (a much larger part) hopes that Enjolras holds out, that they travel across the country and back together, if only so that he can have some prime eye candy along the way. Grantaire puts a stop on that part of his brain; he really doesn’t need any attachments.

Once he butts out his cigarette, Grantaire climbs back into the cab. He sets the food down between them and looks over at Enjolras. He can see him perk up at the smell of the deep fried food but he doesn’t make a move to grab anything out of the open box. Enjolras is going to have to learn to be a lot more comfortable with him, especially if he doesn’t want to go hungry. This tends to happen a lot with strays. They catch a ride and don’t have the funds to feed themselves. Since Grantaire likes the company, especially since he gets to look at Enjolras this way, he doesn’t mind sharing. 

“Do you know if that was fried in beef fat?” he asks quietly, still keeping his eyes directed out the window. 

“Um, I may have forgotten to ask, is it a big deal if it is?” he asks. It sounds like it is, since Enjolras had asked in the first place. He hopes not, since there is no way he’s going to be able to eat all of that food by himself. 

“Yes, I’m a vegetarian,” Enjolras states stuffily. “I can’t eat food that’s been fried in animal fat. Not that I was intending on eating it anyway. You shouldn’t either. Do you know the injustices they do to animals just so that we can eat them? They inject them with hormones, which cause infections, which cause horrible living conditions. Not to mention that they’re kept in tiny little areas where they spend their whole lives before they’re off to the slaughter house. Did you know that there are eight year old girls that are developing breasts and starting to menstruate because of growth hormones found in meat? Is that smoke I smell?” Apparently Enjolras is really bossy. Grantaire will have to keep that in mind.

“We haven’t left yet so I’ll go ask.” At Enjolras’ nod, Grantaire hops out of the cab and heads back into the truck stop. He finds out that it’s not beef fat, it is in fact, canola oil that their food is fried in but he buys some hummus chips just in case. When he gets back in, Enjolras is staring at his phone. “You’re in luck,” he says. “It’s canola oil. Now dig in. I can’t eat all this shit by myself.” He passes over the hummus chips as well while he pretends he doesn’t notice how quickly Enjolras takes some of the food.

“I never eat stuff like this,” he admits around a mouthful of French fries. “Fried food is full of trans fats and salt and… I really prefer vegetables over everything else. You need to keep your body in good shape in order to have a working mind. Were you smoking earlier?” 

Grantaire nods hesitantly, preparing for another lecture as he starts up the truck. He looks over and sees Enjolras just shake his head. “You know, smoking doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts everyone you come into contact with. Even if you smoke outside, you still have it on your clothes. Right now, we’re both breathing it in, Grantaire,” Enjolras points out. He’s about to say something else it seems, but then he’s distracted by the food. “I guess this is pretty good though, for something that’s practically poison.”

“You’re welcome,” Grantaire replies. He’s beginning to realise that Enjolras is very stubborn and very set in his beliefs. Grantaire isn’t going to sneak smokes for the entire time he’s in here with Enjolras but neither is he going to smoke in the cab like he usually does on trips. Bahorel has never cared, being a smoker himself, nor have any of his other passengers. Enjolras, on the other hand, seems to care too much, worried about smoking and fast food affecting Grantaire’s health after only having known him for such a short time, most of which he’d been asleep. 

“Thank you,” Enjolras allows finally. “So why don’t you tell me about yourself so I can stop lecturing you about your life choices?” 

That sounds like a better idea than whatever they’re doing now, so Grantaire nods. “So that you can find more things about me to bitch about?” he says, looking over at Enjolras and winking to show that he’s teasing. He’s actually enjoying himself, surprisingly. Anyone else certainly would have been pissed off by now. “There’s not much to know,” he replies. “I just drive, that’s pretty much it.”

He sees Enjolras shake his head out of the corner of his eye and hears him say, “there must be more to your life than that. Don’t you care about anything? Don’t you have any interests beyond the everyday things you do?”

“You really cut to the chase, don’t you?” Grantaire responds absently. “I like to read,” he responds. “I’ll read anything. Biographies, histories, philosophy, fiction… Anything I can get my hands on. Audiobooks when I’m on the road.” When he’d been in rehab for his addiction to alcohol, reading had been a welcome distraction for the thoughts and feelings he’d been experiencing by becoming sober. He may not be formally educated, but he is actually quite well read. “I like to draw and paint too.” That had been therapeutic for him as well, and they’re both things that he’s held onto in the years since that time. He wants to glance over and see Enjolras’ face to gauge his reaction but he can’t. There’s some asshole in front of him that won’t let him pass them and whoever it may be is driving ridiculously slow. If Grantaire can’t get ahead of the person within the next twenty minutes, his entire route will be behind and he won’t be able to get as much sleep when he stops which means he won’t be as aware tomorrow. Shit. This guy had better either speed up or let them pass.

“I’m just curious about people,” Enjolras says. “And you seem to have potential so I thought that there must be more to you than just driving a truck. Why did you become a trucker anyway? ” He digs around in the bag that held the fries and pulls out a bag of candy. “Good choice with the Maynard’s,” he says. “At least they’re vegan friendly.” 

“Well now I’ve learned something,” Grantaire replies. He smiles over at Enjolras briefly, noting that it’s kind of really hot when he’s ranting as well as appreciating the fact that he’s at least talking now. He’s kind of adorable when he’s not staring out the window forlornly, looking like he wishes he could fix all that’s wrong in the world. Grantaire just wishes that he could find out why Enjolras has left home, and why it seems like it’s somewhere he never wants to return to. He stays quiet for the few minutes he needs to concentrate on passing the asshole then he starts to speak, “Well, I work for my Uncle,” he starts. “I’ve always kind of worked for him. I started taking phone orders when I was thirteen and on my breaks and shit I was always bugging the mechanics. I guess they liked me or something, even though I was an annoying little fuck, because they started to teach me how to fix the rigs. Soon enough, I could do small jobs by myself and when I was old enough, I went through to get my licence. I’ve only been driving for about six months now but I really like it. I like travelling. I don’t really have anything back home besides my mom and my sister so I don’t mind being out for long trips. I get to meet some pretty interesting people, too.” Grantaire looks over at Enjolras as he says it and grins when he sees the blond looking back.

He reaches over and grabs some of the candies from Enjolras’ lap and pops them into his mouth. As he does so, the blond clears his throat and continues their conversation, “Do you pick up hitch hikers often?” he asks. 

He nods because he can feel Enjolras’ eyes on him. “Yeah, usually at least once every trip. I figure if I’ve got an empty seat then there might as well be someone filling it. I’m driving anyway, so someone should benefit from it.”

Enjolras nods which is good, since he’s someone benefitting from it. “I appreciate that you aren’t a murderer or a creep that plans to date rape me and then jerk off all over my naked body. I wasn’t sure when you first picked me up…” 

“I wouldn’t be so positive about that,” Grantaire adds to the joke. He thinks that if Enjolras is making sex jokes, then he can too. “It’s not like I’d object to taking your clothes off.”

He feels Enjolras’ eyes on him and for a moment Grantaire thinks that he’s maybe said the wrong thing. Enjolras is kind of passionate about animal rights so sex jokes may be off the table. It’s possible that he came on a little too strong. He’s about to apologize, to beg Enjolras not to leave at the next stop because he’d made a mistake when the blond finally speaks. “You’re not too bad either, you know. You’re definitely not what I expected when I got into this truck.”

The statement makes Grantaire laugh. Every single hitcher he’s ever picked up has said the same thing. “Yeah, some of the guys I work with are pretty rough. They have to be. It’s dangerous, being on the road all the time by yourself.” He speeds up and passes some grandma that’s in front of him and going nearly forty below the speed limit before he continues. “There are only a couple of us that are under thirty too. Me, obviously, my buddy Feuilly and the only chick driver we have, Eponine. We’re the ones that take the longest trips, because we don’t have kids and families to be home with. Eponine’s got a boyfriend- or a fuck buddy or something named Montparnasse but he doesn’t live in nearby. He goes with her for most of his trips though.” 

“Doesn’t he have his own job, or something better to do?” Enjolras frowns. “Not that I’m against women being the breadwinners in families,” he clarifies quickly.

“I actually don’t know what Montparnasse’s deal is. I know he does a lot of business over the internet, or on his phone, so I guess he just has a lot of free time,” Grantaire responds with a shrug. 

“Oh,” Enjolras replies. Then his attention is taken from Grantaire and directed toward his phone again, which he’s staring at with a look caught between hurt and a frown, and Grantaire’s is back solely on the road. They fall into silence again but this time it’s far less awkward than it had been before.

***

The sun starts to peak over the distance just as Grantaire pulls into the first stop of the trip. Enjolras’ eyes are burning with the need for sleep but although he’s tried already a few times, he hasn’t been able to drift off into unconsciousness again. He’s talked with Grantaire, more than a little and learned a lot about the trucker. He’s much more interesting than he claims to be and it seems like every word out of his mouth makes Enjolras like him more. Not for the first time is he glad that he’d gotten picked up by Grantaire and not some other person driving by. He’s definitely helping Enjolras forget about what Combeferre had told him, that since Enjolras hadn’t shown up for their date, Courfeyrac had gone out with Marius instead and no one had heard from them all night. It hurts in a way that Enjolras hadn’t expected. He didn’t even know he _liked_ Courfeyrac until now.

Grantaire hops out of the truck with a wide but tired grin and scampers over to the receiving doors. Enjolras watches curiously as he exchanges words with the workers there and then as he comes back to the truck. “So we’re all set. In about an hour we can come back here and get some sleep before they pack us up for tonight. Then we can get some more sleep and head out.” 

Enjolras nods but then a thought catches hold of his mind. “Um, where do you sleep, anyway?” he asks. He looks around the cab and can’t help but think that there’s barely enough room for Grantaire alone in there and there’s definitely not enough room for the both of them. Things are looking like they’re about to get interesting. Enolras is slightly terrified. He’d only just come to the conclusion that he’s gay a short time ago and now he has to sleep next to Grantaire, who is possibly the most interesting and attractive man that he’s ever met? This is starting to feel like some kind of test. 

“Oh yeah, shit.” Grantaire says it like he’s forgotten to explain something key to Enjolras. “So, here’s the deal. I sleep on a mattress in the back. It’s dark back there so I can sleep during the day and it doesn’t fuck me up too much. I guess… well, you can come back there with me, or you can stay up here in the cab. It’s up to you.”

Enjolras bites his lip as he makes his decision. On one hand, he likely won’t be able to sleep up front but on the other, if he goes to the back with Grantaire, he’s not entirely sure what will happen. What if he wakes up hard? That would be awkward and embarrassing to say the least. He’s also already gotten used to having Grantaire nearby and he likes him, despite knowing that he probably shouldn’t trust him so easily. Finally, he nods slightly, mostly to himself, then answers, “I don’t take up very much room.” 

He sees the flash of a smile on Grantaire’s face before it disappears and he just nods. “Yeah, that’s fine then. Great, actually. I probably would have worried had you decided to stay up here alone.” He shuffles some of the stuff around in the front then moves to get back out of the truck. “You coming for some breakfast or not?” 

The word breakfast definitely gets Enjolras moving. When he’d told Grantaire he wasn’t hungry the night before, he’d been lying. Enjolras is always hungry, he’d just not wanted to leave the truck at that point in time. He’d also been very thankful when Grantaire had grabbed him some extra nourishment and especially grateful when he’d found out it was vegetarian friendly, despite the fat content. Even with the food, by this time, Enjolras is starving. He grabs his wallet and his phone, although he’d turned it off earlier on in the evening, after the phone call from Combeferre and follows Grantaire to a quaint little diner across the street from where the truck is parked. It smells like eggs and pancakes and bacon. Enjolras’ mouth starts to water at the thought of devouring the soft, fluffy eggs, the pancakes drizzled with syrup… He can’t wait. He’s always had a sweet tooth; he just doesn’t like admitting to it, since it’s sort of a weakness. 

Grantaire steers them toward a booth and sits them down. There are already menus on the table and Enjolras picks one up to look through as Grantaire orders a coffee from their waitress, _Hello, My Name Is Chetta_. She turns to Enjolras, her smile far too bright for this time in the morning, “You want a coffee too, sugar?” she asks.

He shakes his head. He’s about to go to sleep, he doesn’t need the extra caffeine. “How about an orange juice?” he says. He looks down from her face and back to the menu and wonders about how much he can actually eat at this point because everything just smells so good. 

“I’ll be right back with that,” Chetta replies. She bounces off toward the counter, leaving them alone.

“How can you drink coffee this late? You’re about to go to sleep,” Enjolras questions. He’s a dedicated coffee enthusiast himself, but there’s no way he can drink it so close to bed time. He’s trying to decide between the two eggs, and a pancake or a pile of waffles with whipped cream and raspberries. They both sound delicious and both will satisfy his sweet tooth. He’s already eaten so poorly today that he might as well fully dedicate himself to eating badly. Besides, he’s just run away from home, he deserves a bit of comfort food.

Grantaire chuckles and Enjolras finds that he likes the sound. He wants to hear it again. “Caffeine barely even affects me anymore, to be honest. I could drink like, ten coffees and still be able to crash right afterward.”

Enjolras decides on the waffles and closes his menu. “I don’t think that’s entirely healthy,” he begins. He stops himself, however, since he just doesn’t have the energy left to lecture Grantaire again.

“Probably not.” Grantaire says through a yawn. He looks at Enjolras a little sheepishly, “Almost bedtime.”

Chetta comes back both with a pot of coffee and a glass of orange juice. She pours Grantaire’s coffee with expert precision and sets Enjolras’ juice down in front of him. “So R, who’s your friend?” she asks.

Grantaire’s grin quirks up to the side and he looks over at Enjolras. There’s something in his eyes, something like affection and it makes his insides shift and feel warm. A blush spreads across his cheeks and Enjolras ducks his head down. He doesn’t really get it; he doesn’t want to feel this way about Grantaire, not after what had just happened with his parents. He can’t afford any more drama but… He can’t help it. So far, Grantaire has proven to be kind and considerate and he keeps sending Enjolras looks like he can’t believe that Enjolras is actually real. It makes him think that maybe Grantaire is attracted to him, and not just joking about it like he had earlier. 

“Picked him up back home just as I was leaving,” Grantaire replies. Enjolras doesn’t know if Grantaire is still looking at him or not because he’s still staring at his menu. Hopefully they both think that he’s still deciding on what to have to eat and not trying to school his expression into something neutral. “Says he’s heading anywhere but there, so I’ve got a buddy for my entire trip.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Chetta says with a smile. “So have you fellows decided on what you’re going to have?”

Enjolras finally looks up at her and nods. “Yeah, how about you?” he asks Grantaire.

“I’ll just get my usual,” the trucker replies. He smiles up at Chetta as she nods. Enjolras wonders how often Grantaire actually comes to this diner to have something that he gets all the time.

“I’ll get the waffles, the ones with raspberries and whipped cream?” He studiously avoids Grantaire’s gaze as he hands the menu back to Chetta and smiles at her politely. She nods and leaves the two of them alone once more. Enjolras fidgets a bit and then he looks at Grantaire, “How often do you come here, anyway?”

Grantaire bites his lip as he ponders the question. “Couple times every run,” he answers. “I usually stop in on the way out and on the way back. It’s a nice place, I like it.”

Enjolras nods. “Do you go on runs like this often?”

“Yeah, I do. I go out for a week, sometimes more, then I have a couple days off and then I head out again. I usually take the same route, sometimes they switch me and Feuilly though, just to get rid of the monotony. I like it though,” Grantaire says just before taking a big gulp of his coffee. Enjolras wants to laugh because the look on Grantaire’s face as he swallows is pure ecstasy, something like what he thinks he must look like in the mornings. 

Before either of them can say anything else, Chetta returns with their food and sets the plates in front of them. Enjolras doesn’t even look over to see what Grantaire ordered because the pile of waffles, whipped cream and raspberries that’s been set in front of him is far too much of a distraction. He knows that he likely looks hilarious, with his eyes wide as he stares at his waffles but he doesn’t even care. He just wants those waffles in his mouth, right now. He shoves his fork into the food, cuts a square and eats it. He’d been right, they’re absolutely perfect.

Enjolras devours his waffles. He eats every last scrap on his plate and then swishes the juice around in his mouth to chase it down. Once he’s finished, he leans back in his chair and rests a hand on his belly. “Oh my god, that was amazing.” 

Grantaire is looking at him with amusement written all over his face. Enjolras feels himself grin back even though he doesn’t know why. He’s not usually this warm with new people. “You ate that pretty fast,” he teases.

“I might have been lying about the fact that I wasn’t hungry, earlier,” he admits. He looks down because he doesn’t want to start this trip off with dishonesty, even if it is about something trivial like that. “Sorry.”

Grantaire gives him a shocked and offended look, “You lied to me?” he asks. “I can’t believe you would lie to me!”

Chetta negates anything that Enjolras might have said and comes back with their bill. He snatches it up before Grantaire can even move to reach for it. “I’ve got this,” he says and goes up to the register. Grantaire looks at him confusedly then shrugs. Enjolras figures that his parents can spot them for this one, especially since they’re such judgemental assholes. He likes the idea of them thinking they’re paying for him to go on a date with a man, even though this is certainly not a date. He pays for them both and then follows Grantaire out of the café. They walk back to the truck and the trucker hops into the front. He comes out with a pack of cigarettes and leans against the truck while lighting one. 

Enjolras crinkles his nose with distaste. “That’s a disgusting habit, you know.” 

Grantaire rolls his eyes, “so you told me earlier. You don’t even know how many times I’ve tried to quit. It’s fucking hard.” 

“It can’t be that hard. Was it hard to start?” 

Grantaire grins over at him and nods, taking one last puff and then throwing his cigarette butt onto the ground and stepping on it. “Might be a good idea, to try again, or we could go to sleep.”

“Sleep sounds fantastic. You’re right about the front. It’s not very comfortable. I don’t even know how many times I tried to sleep. It just didn’t work,” Enjolras replies regretfully.

“I tried sleeping up there before I had a mattress, on my first trip. I lasted one night before getting one of those foam things that goes on beds, you know? I slept like a fucking baby,” Grantaire replies as he leads them to the back of the truck. 

He opens the door and allows Enjolras in ahead of him. He shuts the door behind himself and they both scramble in the darkness for the bed. Grantaire finds it first, Enjolras chalks that up to the fact that it’s _his_ bed and he knows the way better than Enjolras does. Enjolras feels himself being pulled down with him and he accidentally lands on the trucker. 

An “oof,” breaks its way out of Enjolras’ throat and then they’re both chuckling together. “That was… sorry.” He climbs off of Grantaire and settles down next to him. 

“It’s fine, it was my fault anyway,” Grantiare’s voice is already thick with sleep. Enjolras can hear him shuffle around a little and then the sound of clothing hitting the floor next to them. It takes him a moment before he realizes the implications of this. Enjolras’ eyes go wide when the fact that Grantaire is quite possibly nearly naked next to him. Enjolras hadn’t meant to be looking, but he had. He’d never seen himself as someone that would like a guy like Grantaire, with his ripped jeans, tattoos and seemingly unfulfilling job. The more he spends time with Grantaire though, the further Courfeyrac is from his mind. He barely even knows the trucker so this is all very confusing. He doesn’t care about animal rights, he smokes, and probably has no idea about the political situation in their own country, let alone what’s going on in others but yet… Enjolras had enjoyed speaking to him and they had flirted a little. Maybe Grantaire likes him too.

Enjolras almost jumps, being startled from his thoughts by Grantaire pulling a blanket over top of both of them. It’s only seconds before Enjolras hears his breathing even out, get deeper. Grantaire is asleep, apparently not plagued by all the thoughts Enjolras is experiencing. 

Enjolras takes a little more time than that because he’s too busy freaking out about the fact that Grantaire is next to him and that he’s wearing about the same amount of clothing as Enjolras would if he were at the beach or something. Possibly less if Grantaire wears briefs. It would be so easy… but no. Enjolras can’t do that. He doesn’t know Grantaire, he doesn’t know anything about him, except he does. He knows that Grantaire loves the open road, has been working for this company since he was twelve, doing various things. He knows of Grantaire’s love for books, of his desire to learn more from them despite obviously not being formally educated. He knows that Grantaire likes art and that he’s so addicted to coffee that drinking it doesn’t affect him anymore. He knows that for some unknown reason, Grantaire likes him and… _Courfeyrac_. The name pops up in Enjolras’ mind like a flash. It further proves to Enjolras that despite the lack of clothing, despite the incessant flirting for most of the day, he can’t do this with Grantaire because he likes Courfeyrac and Courfeyrac knows it. They’d been supposed to go on a date until Enjolras had found out about his parents’ opinion on homosexuality. He hadn’t even told Courfeyrac that he was leaving. Now Courfeyrac was dating Pontmercy and… Enjolras has no idea how that had happened. He can’t do anything with Grantaire and he’s not going to. Not until…

He grabs his phone from beside the mattress and turns it on. There’s about a million texts from Combeferre but he ignores those in favour of looking for anything from Courfeyrac. There’s nothing. He bites his lip because he doesn’t want to be upset about it even though the knowledge that Courfeyrac doesn’t care enough about him to even send a single text message in the twelve hours he’d been gone hurts more than Enjolras would ever admit. Feelings like this are a distraction and he’d thought that since Courfeyrac feels the same way as Enjolras about many issues, he’d be the perfect person, since Combeferre had admitted to being very very straight. He may have been wrong, however. He sends his own text because he needs to know, _were you ever really planning to have a real relationship with me?_ and waits for a reply. 

He doesn’t wait long. The reply is almost instantaneous; he knows that Courf is often glued to his phone. Enjolras hesitates to check it but the screen of his phone is glowing in the darkness and curiosity gets the best of him. It’s simple, only one letter and Enjolras feels his heart constrict as he reads it. A plain _n_ stares back at him. There’s another message that flashes on his screen but he shuts off his phone before he can look at it. It too is from Courfeyrac but he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t think he can look. This is a disaster. He never wants to have a distraction like this again. From now on, he’s going to ignore his sexuality and attraction to anyone because this is bringing up emotions that he doesn’t understand or appreciate. He glares at his phone as he turns it off again. 

He falls back onto the mattress, curls into himself and shakes with silent tremors. Tears leak out, soak the almost flat pillow that Grantaire has provided him. He curses himself for being so weak, for not being able to control his emotions but that just makes him more choked up. He falls asleep like that, in a ball with tears streaking his face.


	2. Hiatus

As of right now, this fic is on hiatus. I did enjoy writing it but unfortunately, real life has gotten the best of me in the past few years, as well as obsessions with other fandoms. 

I do plan to return to this, but not right at this minute and this hiatus is indefinite.

I would like to thank all of you for reading and commenting, and I hope to be able to update this fic again at some point. <3


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